


match in the gas tank

by kelidahauk



Series: crow black dreams [8]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Yakuza, Blow Jobs, Blow Jobs in a Car, Developing Relationship, Enemies to Lovers, First Time Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Hate to Love, Kageyama Tobio is Bad at Feelings, Kageyama Tobio is a Little Shit, M/M, Masturbation, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Road Trips, Sexual Tension, Tsukishima Kei is Bad at Feelings, Tsukishima Kei is a Little Shit, Tsukishima Kei is a Tease, foes to hoes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:27:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28858083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kelidahauk/pseuds/kelidahauk
Summary: “What.  Are you doing,” Tobio asks, and it sounds as if he’s gritting his teeth.“I am— distracting myself,” Kei says, “from this drive from hell.”  His tone shifts, turning teasing.  “Why?” he asks.  “Am I distracting you?”“Are you—” Tobio begins, then clenches his jaw.“Am I what?” he asks with a grin, closing his eyes.  “Am I jacking off in the front seat of my car while you ignore me?  Yeah.  I guess I fucking am."“Fuck you,” Tobio spits, incensed.“Would be nice,” Kei agrees, his breath audibly hitching.
Relationships: Kageyama Tobio/Tsukishima Kei
Series: crow black dreams [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1845355
Comments: 7
Kudos: 107





	match in the gas tank

**Author's Note:**

> As you all know by now, I just write whatever strikes my fancy whenever it strikes my fancy. This fic belongs chronologically between ["every night I call your name"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25474924) and ["every night I fall again."](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26154256) I'm not actually going to slot it in there because I like grouping the three "every night" fics together -- I purposefully planned those to be a sort of trilogy, and this one would interrupt it. My beta reader suggested that I place it after "the end is all that's ever true" so you can see exactly how far Kei and Tobio have come, and I thought that was a cute sentiment, so here it is! Consider this to be fic 2.5, lol. 
> 
> I'll admit that "match" is purely self-indulgent wank. I wanted to write fast cars and blow jobs, so here it is: the tkkg road head fic. It's probably got less story than my other fics, but I hope you can still enjoy it (I did seed some tidbits of new information in there to help flesh out this universe!).
> 
> In this story, I use the following yakuza family ranks and terms:  
> oyabun - leader of the family  
> wakagashira - second in command  
> shingiin - family lawyer  
> hitokiri - assassin  
> shugosha - bodyguard

_Thunk. Thunk. Thunk._

The steady, hollow thumping is persistent as it echoes throughout the cabin of the car. The annoying sound does absolutely no fucking favors for Kei’s already-dark mood. It’s the end of a really long night and their work still isn’t done and all he fucking wants to do is sleep. Kei spent all day buried in paperwork and now he’s worked all goddamn night, too. This is unusual: he doesn’t usually go out on jobs with Tobio, but his shugosha was insistent that he join him tonight.

 _“You’re getting lazy,”_ Tobio had said, laying a hand flat against Kei’s stomach. _“You need more activity. I can barely feel your abs. You will come with me tonight.”_

 _“I’ll come with you any night,”_ Kei had responded, winking at him.

Tobio was unamused. _“On the job, asshole,”_ he had said. _“This one will be easy. Running will be good for you. Wear your killing gear.”_

Kei doesn’t own killing gear. He’s a shingiin, Karasuno-kai's pretty boy lawyer. He's not a goddamn hitokiri like their infamous Black Dog, who is currently sitting behind the wheel of Kei’s car dressed head-to-toe in his signature color. Tobio’s wearing a tactical vest over a form-fitting, long-sleeved black shirt. His black tactical pants are tucked into tightly-laced combat boots and there are knives and guns strapped fucking everywhere. The assassin looks like a one-man army. Tobio may be used to running for hours at night, but Kei’s not. He misses his bed, and Tobio in it.

As he reaches over to turn the radio on, Kei allows his eyes to linger on his shugosha’s forearms, clearly bulging with muscle even under his clothing. Something low and dark and industrial emits from the speakers, the bassline muffling the irritating banging still coming from the trunk of his dark gray Toyota Supra. Tobio takes his eyes off of the open road long enough to glare at Kei before reaching over and decisively turning the radio off.

_Thunk. Thunk. Thunk._

Kei turns the radio back on.

Tobio turns it off.

_Thunk. Thunk. Thunk._

“Come the fuck on,” Kei complains, loud enough to be heard over the incessant banging. “You can’t say that isn’t fucking annoying.”

“Your music is more annoying,” Tobio says, his voice flat and unwavering.

“It’s my car,” Kei points out. “I should be able to listen to whatever the hell I want.”

“No,” Tobio says. “I am driving. We have a hostage in the trunk. We cannot be pulled over. I must pay attention to the road. Keep your fucking music off.”

The man banging away in the trunk was Tobio’s job for the night. Kei had followed his shugosha from rooftop to rooftop, running and jumping and occasionally stumbling, as they tracked their target for what felt like hours across the city. Eventually, following some base instinct Kei couldn’t read, Tobio had snatched him off the street and disabled him easily with a few well-placed blows. He’d left Kei with the body, jogged a few blocks away to where they’d left the car and driven back to quickly and efficiently load him into the trunk.

_Thunk. Thunk. Thunk._

“I can drive and listen to music just fine,” Kei says. “Pull over if you can’t. It’s my car. I want to drive, anyway.”

It’s aggravating as fuck, how Tobio always assumes he should be the one driving whenever they go anywhere. They never take _Tobio’s_ car, an unassuming black Toyota Prius. It’s dull and boring and they both prefer the power of Kei’s ride. Hell, most of the time they take his bike. Tobio’s got one of those, too, but he never rides it. He hops on Kei’s and gives him this look that says, _come on, what are you waiting for?_

Kei can’t actually remember the last time he drove his own fucking vehicle. That needs to change. It was fine when he was still wounded, but he’s fully recovered. There’s no goddamn reason why he can’t drive his own car other than the fact that Tobio is a controlling asshole who doesn’t like to share. 

“No,” Tobio says, his voice cool. “I’m a better driver than you. So when we go somewhere. I drive.”

“You are not,” Kei says indignantly. “I’m a very good driver. I’ve never even gotten a ticket. Music doesn’t distract me but you can’t even stand to have the radio on. I’m much better than you.”

“No,” Tobio says. “You get distracted too easily. By everything. The last time you drove, you answered your cell phone. That was dangerous.”

“It was Suga-san!” Kei protests. “What did you want me to do, ignore his call?”

“Yes,” Tobio answers. “Do not answer the phone. When you drive. Wait. Until you can stop. Phones are a distraction.”

“You act like nothing distracts you,” Kei says. “Like you’re perfect.”

“I am,” Tobio says. “I trained in evasive maneuvering. You did not.”

Because he’s an asshole, Kei leans over and jabs his finger in Tobio’s side. His shugosha barely flinches and his eyes never leave the road. His frown, however, deepens.

“Stop that,” he says, and his voice is irritable. “Asshole.”

The thudding in the trunk continues. Ludicrously, Kei wonders, _is this how the protagonist in The Tell-Tale Heart felt? This slow descent into madness?_

He can believe it. The asshole in his trunk and the asshole driving his car are about to make him lose his shit. Tobio is driving him mad. Kei needs something to focus on.

“Are you ticklish?” he asks Tobio abruptly, flexing his long, slender fingers.

“Try it,” Tobio says, and the warning is clear in his voice. "I will break a fucking finger. Without ever looking at you. You cannot distract me, Kei.”

Suddenly, a wicked thought pops into his head. A slow grin spreads across his lips as he contemplates the idea, eyeing Tobio as he drives. His shugosha is as stoic as ever, his eyes on the road, and Kei longs to make him flinch. He wants to pull a reaction — any reaction — out of him. This idea, this wicked thought, is incredibly tempting. He decides to go for it. 

Kei closes his eyes and leans back in the sculpted, racerback seat. He remembers Tobio waiting for him on the top step in his loft, shrouded in darkness, his expression fierce. He remembers being shoved into the wall, Tobio’s burning hands ripping at the ties of his kimono and hakama — the same ones he’s wearing now, his own version of _killing gear._ He remembers Tobio whining _I want you_ and coming in his arms, his whole body shaking with effort as he unraveled.

Getting a reaction out of Tobio is his favorite thing. It’s what led him to point Tobio’s .380 at him, to demand that he undress and put every last inch of sleek muscle on display for him to admire. It’s what led him to order Tobio to drop to his knees, to suck his cock as an apology for touching him without permission the night before.

They’re startlingly clear, these memories. As Kei dwells upon them, he’s able to _mostly_ ignore the banging in the trunk. He focuses on calming himself down, on getting in the right headspace for what he’s decided to do. His shugosha is arrogant. Tobio is the best at what he does; the Black Dog is infamous _because_ Tobio really is just as good as he thinks he is. But Kei’s arrogant too, in his own way. It’s why they’re so well matched — why they don’t take each other’s shit. 

Kei is done taking Tobio’s shit. 

Opening his eyes, Kei turns his head to the side so he can watch Tobio more easily. His shugosha keeps his own eyes fixed on the road, seemingly oblivious to Kei’s movements. The sky is lightening up ahead with the promise of dawn and the country road is long and empty. Bereft of almost all other traffic, it’s the perfect place to enact his wicked thought. Kei unbuckles his seatbelt. Tobio’s frown deepens, the only sign he’s paying the slightest bit of attention to Kei’s actions, but he says nothing.

Slowly, deliberately, Kei unties his kimono. Clever fingers toy with the neckline of the black fabric before he tugs it out of his hakama, allowing it to drape open around him. His chest is bare and mottled with bruises here and there, as it always is these days; he and Tobio spend an inordinate amount of time sparring together, and the wear and tear is evident on his flesh. The cool air conditioning immediately makes his skin prickle with goosebumps, his nipples automatically hardening.

Without checking to see if Tobio is looking at him, Kei begins to work at the ties of his hakama. They fasten together on either side. When he’s done, he folds the front down carefully, exposing himself. He doesn't wear anything under his traditional clothing, a fact that Tobio well knows. Kei can see steely blue eyes dart over to look at him before they quickly fasten back on the road.

“What. Are you doing,” Tobio asks, and it sounds as if he’s gritting his teeth.

Kei gives him a lazy smile as he wraps the fingers of his right hand around his cock. He’s not fully hard yet, so he starts off by giving himself a few light, gentle strokes. It’s a nice feeling, even though he’s been spoiled lately by having Tobio’s warm hands there instead of his own. Kei rubs his thumb across the head, dragging it back and forth before giving another few lazy pumps. His back arches just a little and he has to take in a deep breath so he can answer Tobio with a steady voice.

“I am— distracting myself,” he says, “from this drive from hell.” His tone shifts, turning teasing. “Why?” he asks. “Am I distracting you?”

“Are you—” Tobio begins, then clenches his jaw. 

“Am I what?” Kei asks with a grin, closing his eyes again as he continues to slowly stroke himself. “Am I jacking off in the front seat of my car while you ignore me? Yeah. I guess I fucking am. Gotta pass the time somehow. This is a really boring drive when you don’t have music playing.”

“Fuck you,” Tobio spits, incensed.

“Would be nice,” Kei agrees, his breath audibly hitching. 

He peeks through his lashes just in time to see Tobio’s head whip back to the road. A slow grin spreads across his face just as a slow heat begins to spread through his belly. Kei keeps an even tempo, making long and slow strokes, occasionally thumbing over the slit. His hips jerk up spasmodically and he bites his lower lip. He keeps his eyes fixed on Tobio the whole time, imagining peeling his clothes off, imagining Tobio’s hands on him instead of his own. 

“You can watch,” he offers a few moments later, and his words and his breathing are both rushed. “Don’t be shy.”

Tobio’s throat bobs as he swallows, but he says nothing. There’s color burning high on his cheekbones and his knuckles on the steering wheel are turning whiter and whiter. Kei focuses on the sounds coming from the trunk — the steady and ever-present _thunk, thunk, thunk_ — and he matches his movements to those, jerking off to the sounds of their hostage seeking his escape. 

“Are you— “ Tobio begins again, before he grits his teeth and says nothing.

“Am I what, Tobio?” Kei asks, his voice breathy. He pauses in his endeavors, gripping the base of his cock tightly so he can focus enough to speak.

“What. Are you. Thinking about.” Tobio bites off, each word sharp and harsh. 

“You mean, am I thinking about you?” Kei asks, as if he doesn’t damn well know where Tobio was going with the short and abbreviated _are you_. “Why? Do you want me to think about you, Tobio?”

“Yes,” he answers, and the word sends heat flushing through Kei’s body. 

He’s glad he stopped teasing himself for this conversation, because blowing his load at Tobio’s declaration would give that asshole ammunition for days. He needs to maintain control. Kei draws in a ragged breath, trying to regulate his heartbeat before he finally replies.

“I am,” Kei admits. “I think about you a lot.” 

He does. Probably more than he should, considering that Tobio’s his fucking bodyguard and that they’re yakuza and that this whole thing is generally just a bad idea. It’s only a matter of time before this… this thing between them is exposed. It’s only a matter of time before one of them gets killed, mowed down in a hail of bullets on the streets or stabbed to death in an alleyway.

But Kei’s always made poor choices, so what’s one more in the grand scheme of things? Fucking your bodyguard, that’s a common trope, right? He’s pretty sure he’s seen a movie or two about it. It’s not like there are feelings involved or anything. The Black Dog is just hot as fuck and so is he. They're simply attracted to each other. It’s chemistry, nothing personal. Assholes don't catch feelings for each other. Kei shrugs away those thoughts.

“Do you want to know what I am thinking about?” he asks.

“No,” Tobio replies, perhaps a little too quickly. The color is spreading down his face and even the back of his neck is red now. He very pointedly looks away from Kei.

“Okay,” Kei says, resuming his efforts. 

And because he’s an asshole, he begins to talk anyway. 

“I’m thinking about that first night when I came home and you were waiting for me. How you were so mad that I beat your ass—”

“You didn’t,” Tobio interjects. “I hit you.”

“You cheated,” Kei corrects him, “but I beat you in swordplay, fair and square.” 

Tobio grunts and Kei elects to interpret the sound as a reluctant assent. He swipes his thumb across his slit, gathering and smearing the beads of precome that’ve collected there. Letting out a softer grunt of his own before continuing, Kei tilts his head back against the seat.

“I liked that you didn’t hold back,” he says. “I’m thinking about when you came at me with the bokken. That was hot. I liked when you put me up against the wall. You’re really strong. I'm thinking about your arms and what they looked like when you grabbed me. Your hands on the bokken. And how your mouth looked wrapped around my cock when you were on your knees in front of me—”

The Black Dog lets out a little whine and the corner of Kei’s lip quirks up. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, breathlessly. It’s a damn lie. He’s not sorry at all. “Am I distracting you?”

“No,” Tobio answers again, but this time his eyes definitely slant towards Kei. They trail from his chest down to his hand. As if on instinct, one of Tobio’s own hands detaches from the steering wheel and begins to drift toward him.

“Do you want to touch me? Because you can,” Kei says, pitching his voice low as he watches Tobio’s hand, picturing it wrapping around him like it wrapped around the bokken.

“No,” Tobio says again. 

He drops his hand heavily on the gearshift, as if that were what he was reaching for the whole time. There’s no need. They’re on the open road, going a steady 100 kilometers per hour; Tobio won’t be changing gears anytime soon. 

_Unless I force him to,_ Kei thinks. He certainly fucking plans on it. 

Letting out a loud sigh, Kei rocks his hips up in time with the movement of his hand. He uses his other one to brush gently down the side of his body, rubbing his fingers back and forth over a nipple, before he slips it on top of Tobio’s. As if of their own accord, Tobio’s fingers loosen around the gearshift just enough for Kei’s to intertwine with them.

“That’s fine,” Kei says as he thrusts up into his own hand, “I can take care of this myself. Watch the road, Tobio. I don’t want to distract you.”

His cheeks burning, Tobio keeps his head turned perfectly forward, but his eyes keep wandering over to fixate on Kei’s hand. Tightening his fingers around Tobio’s on the gearshift, Kei decides that he’s about done putting on this show. He’s leaking everywhere and his dick is hard and red and swollen. Loosening his grip, he runs his forefinger through the sticky mess. As he raises his golden eyes to meet Tobio’s, Kei smiles his sweetest fucking smile. He then leans over to swipe his wet finger across Tobio’s pouty lips. As if on instinct, Tobio parts them and Kei slips the finger within. 

Tobio’s tongue, hot and greedy, curls around his fingertip to taste him. Kei lets out a loud moan then, imagining that tongue curling around the head of his cock instead. He thrusts up into nothingness, both of his hands otherwise engaged. Tobio sucks on his finger, not even pretending to watch the road anymore. Lust-dark blue eyes focus on Kei’s, a promise heavy in them: _you will pay when we get home._

He’s fucking counting on it.

Kei withdraws his finger from Tobio’s mouth and gets back to work. He knows he’s fucking loud in bed, when it’s just him and Tobio; they both are. But he’s been by himself for years and he can handle a fucking wank without making a sound. It’s strange, making so much noise when he’d otherwise be quiet, but he’s bound and determine to put on a brilliant fucking show. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he thinks, _this is ridiculous_ as he babbles solely for Tobio’s benefit — solely to torture him.

“I like to think about fucking you,” he says, and he can hear the waver in his own voice. “Fuck, Tobio, I bet you’re so tight — never had anything up your ass but that fucking stick you refuse to remove.” His words are drawn out, breathy as he nears the brink.

Tobio makes a noise. It’s something in the vicinity of a garbled squawk: a very clear _fuck you, but please continue._

So Kei does. “I think about you on all fours underneath me. About what your face will look like when I take you from behind. Goddamn, Tobio, I want to fuck you. I want my cock inside you. I’m _going_ to fuck you. I want you to beg me—”

“I don’t beg,” Tobio protests weakly.

“You fucking will, _Black Dog,_ ” Kei says, and in his voice is a heavy promise. “You’ll beg me to fuck you harder, faster. Because it’ll feel so good—”

 _This_ feels so good, jerking himself off in the passenger side of his car. The warm leather seat vibrates pleasantly underneath him and he continues to stroke his dick in time with the frantic banging in the trunk. The sound is nothing more than background noise now, nowhere near as interesting as the strangled sound Tobio makes at Kei’s words. He can feel his thighs trembling with the effort it’s taking to ride the edge, to hold in his orgasm as he pumps his cock.

“I want to fuck your thighs,” Tobio admits, and it seems like the words are easier, somehow, for him to say. 

“Do you?” Kei asks, his voice rough with his need. “Tell me.”

He pictures himself folded nearly in half, his legs slung over one of Tobio’s broad shoulders as he fucks his thighs, as he strokes Kei off with one strong hand, the other holding him in place—

“Yes,” Tobio says, his eyes fixated on Kei’s hand around his cock. “I like your thighs. And your ass. Maybe I’ll fuck that too. Soon.”

It’s suddenly all too much. Kei groans, thrusting up into his hand one final time before he comes, the _maybe I’ll fuck that too_ echoing on repeat in his imagination. He watches his shugosha’s face through half-lidded eyes as wetness spills across his fingers, shooting up to coat his lower belly. Tobio’s cheeks are pinked and his lips are parted as he breathes heavily, clearly aroused by Kei’s antics and his words. There’s a very visible bulge in his tactical pants and his grip on Kei’s hand is crushing.

Kei relaxes back into the seat, his limbs noodle-limp as the tension drains from his body, replaced with a pleasant warmth. He breathes heavily, stroking his thumb along the side of Tobio’s where it rests on the gearshift. His shugosha shudders at his feather-light touch, but his grip on the wheel remains firm. Kei uses that moment to take his hand back so he can fumble for the glove compartment. He pops it open and pulls out a wad of tissue to mop up the mess. 

His voice only slightly shaking now, he points out, “It’ll still be awhile until we reach the estates. Are you going to be able to wait?”

Tobio’s voice is a low growl when he responds. “Asshole,” he says. “You did this. On purpose.”

“Did I?” Kei asks as he wipes himself clean. “I thought nothing distracted you.”

There’s another growl, wordless this time, as Tobio shifts uncomfortably in his seat. 

“Need a hand?” Kei offers. 

“You are not. Jerking me off. While I drive,” Tobio says. It’s obvious he’s forcing the words out, because they’re short and clipped. “I will pull over.”

Kei shakes his head. “Better not,” he says, barely concealing his amusement. “What if a cop stops to see why we’re just sitting there on the side of the road?”

_Thunk. Thunk. Thunk._

“And we’ve got jackass back there making a ruckus,” he adds with glee. “Don’t want the cops to hear that.”

“Fuck you,” Tobio swears, his foot pushing down a little harder on the gas.

“Better not speed,” Kei says helpfully while Tobio glares at the road.

Kei busies himself with tying his hakama closed, shifting his clothing so he’s covered again. He leaves the kimono hanging open as he twists in his seat, turning fully to face Tobio. He can feel a predatory grin cross his face as he reaches over to palm the bulge in Tobio’s pants. Kei rubs his hand roughly across the fabric and Tobio jerks his hips up, hissing an indrawn breath at his touch.

“Fuck, Kei—” he starts, but his words fall away as Kei unbuckles his seatbelt, then unbuttons and unzips his pants.

“Nothing distracts you,” he reminds Tobio. “You’re a perfect driver. So this should be okay, right?” 

He hooks his fingers into the waistband of Tobio’s black boxer briefs and tugs the front of them down far enough to free his cock. It readily stands at attention, hard and leaking in its bed of dark curls. 

“Huh,” Kei says bemusedly. “You’re already so hard. I don’t even have to touch you.”

“What— “ Tobio huffs, his voice indignant. “What do you mean, you don’t have to—”

Kei rises to his knees in the passenger seat, leans over, and takes him fully in his mouth. Tobio shuts the fuck up. His protests die; a loud and uninhibited moan escapes his lips instead and his foot slams down on the gas. Kei lurches as the car hurtles faster down the road, sliding halfway off of Tobio’s dick before he catches himself. He grabs desperately at Tobio’s thighs for traction, trying to keep from slipping into the floorboards. Lifting his head up, he curves his tongue around the underside of the head teasingly before completely pulling off so he can speak.

“Slow the fuck down,” he orders, trying his best not to laugh. “Don’t want to get pulled over. Or killed.”

Tobio lets out a long-suffering groan, but his foot eases off the gas pedal. “You. Are an asshole,” he tells Kei, desperation clouding his voice. “A smug asshole. _Don’t stop._ ”

“Could’ve just let me play my music,” Kei says, “but here we are.” 

He swallows Tobio down again, sloppily; his tongue curves around the underside of the shaft and Kei does his best to coat it with saliva, to make things slick enough to slide his lips over easily. He leaves one hand braced against Tobio’s thigh but he wraps the other around the base, gripping what he can’t take in. 

He sucks and continues to move downward until the blunt tip hits the back of his throat. Kei eases up just a little, breathing and getting his bearings. His nose, where it’s buried in coarse dark curls, inhales a deep musky odor that is so completely _Tobio_ that it makes him want to rub his face in it. He _wants_ his shugosha in a way he’s never wanted anyone or anything ever before. If he dwells on that fact long enough, it scares him. So Kei doesn’t dwell. He ignores unwanted thoughts and focuses his attention on Tobio, instead

The Black Dog pants, making aborted little thrusting motions with his hips, and Kei’s grateful he’s able to control himself. This is the first time he’s been on this end of things. While hurtling down the road at 100 kph definitely adds a certain thrill to the act, he suspects that it also makes it slightly more difficult. He’s at a strange, sideways angle, and things just feel _so big_ inside his mouth. Still, feeling Tobio shake under him is gratifying as all hell, so he closes his eyes and sucks hard.

“ _Kei_ ,” Tobio says, and his name is a breathy little sigh. The hand that formerly had a death grip on the gearshift weaves itself through his blond curls instead. “Yes, _yes_ —”

It’s a sharp juxtaposition to all the times he stubbornly uttered _no_ earlier, and if Kei’s mouth weren’t full of rock-hard dick he’d probably laugh at him. But as funny as it is, it’s also hot as hell — there’s nothing like the sound of his given name coming so easily to Tobio’s lips. Gratified, he swallows hard and Tobio cries out incoherently above him. The thigh under Kei’s palm trembles and he can feel the car accelerating again. 

_So much for being impervious to distraction_ , Kei thinks delightedly as he focuses all of his efforts on driving Tobio completely fucking mad. 

There’s nothing he wants more than to push his shugosha to the brink, to make him unravel beneath his hands and his lips and his tongue. It’s intoxicating as fuck, the speed of the car beneath him and Tobio’s ragged gasps above him. It’s fun and exciting and dangerous and he can feel his heart racing along with his Supra, his own cock half-hard again with the thrill of it all.

Kei lifts up so just the head of Tobio’s cock lies within his lips. He sucks on it, his hand working over the shaft while he rolls his tongue around. It’s thick and heavy and Tobio tastes like salt. It’s incredible. Kei can’t help but wonder, _what would this feel like inside me?_ He’s never fucked a man before, nor has he ever been fucked by one. Until the moment the words _maybe I’ll fuck that too_ left Tobio’s lips, he’d never even considered it.

It’s suddenly all he can think about, and he thinks he’d like it. This is the first blow job he’s given, too, and it’s shaping up to be fun as all hell. Kei enjoys making Tobio squirm as he laves his tongue repeatedly over the tip before bobbing his head back down. He sucks in even more this time, thinking, _I bet I can take it all._ Tobio’s hips stutter and Kei slams his mouth down, feeling the head of the cock slip down his throat. He hums and Tobio cries out, fingers knotting hard in his golden hair.

Dimly, in the background, Kei's aware of the repetitive _thunk, thunk, thunk_ still coming from the trunk. He matches his pace to that sound, bobbing his head up and down in time with their hostage’s futile kicks. A strangled, lewd sound rips from Tobio’s throat and his dick throbs in Kei’s mouth. 

“Kei—” he hears from somewhere above his head, a desperate choked cry. 

The car swerves hard to the right and suddenly thick, salty warmth pours into his mouth. It’s all he can do to choke it down, to keep it from escaping his lips. Kei swallows desperately and the car jerks again as Tobio makes an incoherent noise. Slowly, carefully, he pulls off as Tobio shakes against him. The hand laced through his hair goes slack, sliding lower to stroke down his back before detaching from his body completely. 

Kei sits back into his seat, surveying the sight before him. Tobio’s eyes, still focused on the road, are nevertheless glassy. There are little beads of sweat on his forehead and his face is bright red. His lower lip has an obvious bite mark on it, where he must have worried it between his own teeth to keep from crying out more than he did. He’s still shaking, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath.

He’s gorgeous and Kei finds himself staring. He doesn’t care; he takes his time and just looks, enjoying what he sees. Tobio is rarely so uninhibited, so relaxed — he has to get his fill while he can. Even the omnipresent pout is gone from his face, replaced with a look of complete and utter bliss. After a moment, Kei very carefully reaches over to tuck Tobio back into his underwear, to zip and button his pants closed again. He fastens both of their seatbelts. Neither one of them speaks as he does so.

_Thunk. Thunk. Thunk._

Kei hadn’t even noticed the absence of the noise until it began again. Startled, his head jerks over and he looks at Tobio. His shugosha meets his gaze. The corners of his eyes crinkle and Kei can feel his own lips twitching as he thinks of the hostage hearing everything, tied up and at their mercy. Next to him, Tobio huffs silently and Kei bursts into wild laughter. The sun is coming over the horizon. Tobio swerves the car hard again. There’s another loud thump from the trunk as their hostage is thrown into the side of it.   
  
They both snicker like the assholes they are.

“Fine,” Tobio says a few moments later as Kei stares out the window, his eyelids starting to feel heavy. 

He turns his head away from the passing scenery and makes a soft sound, a clear query.

“You can drive,” Tobio offers magnanimously. “On the way home.” 

Kei’s eyes narrow as he regards Tobio. He doesn’t trust the smug expression on his face. It reminds him too much of his own. 

“What changed?” he asks suspiciously.

“We will no longer have a hostage,” Tobio answers. “So it does not matter. If we are pulled over. I will prove that you get distracted more easily.”

“Bring it on,” Kei says, grinning.

Either way, he wins.

**Author's Note:**

> One of my character concepts for yakuza au TKKG is that Tobio brings control to Kei's life (he's desperately spiraling out of control), whereas Kei purposefully chips away at Tobio's control (because it makes him cold and keeps him from enjoying things). I tried to illustrate that just a little bit in this story and I hope it was effective!
> 
> So many thanks to [Kaa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaathefriendlysnekk/pseuds/kaathefriendlysnekk) and [Juni](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuniperIris/pseuds/JuniperIris), who let me scream at them about this fic and so willingly beta read it for me. I've been working on my 5+1 for MONTHS and while I'm almost there, I just very badly needed a break. They both encouraged me to write this when I had a brainworm for it, and I word vomited this fic in 3 days. It was FUN and it's reinvigorated me so I can get back to the 5+1 (which is going to be LONG and HEAVY). I am grateful for their support and you should definitely check out their works, too!
> 
> The title of this fic comes from the song "Play with Fire" by Sam Tinnesz. You guys know by now I go hot (haha) and heavy with the fire imagery for TKKG and this one couldn't be an exception. And like always, I have a playlist for this fic -- this one is more conceptual, just songs that give me that "fucking in a car" vibe. I listened to it on repeat for the three days I word vomited this fic, and you can [listen to it here.](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0UNRtV4ItfTPnCmuptsl61?si=LFVKV3WeQyOhPuuUPBNjpA)
> 
> As always, you can follow me [on Twitter](https://twitter.com/kelidahauk) if you appreciate sword kinks, the foes to hoes trope, and excessive profanity.
> 
> We have a TKKG Thirst Discord server! [Come join us to chat about TKKG!](https://discord.gg/7wGBcyH) Only 18+ and older, please; there is a lot of NSFW content there.


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